


Swing Me Your Bones

by disquisitemind



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 12:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3810568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disquisitemind/pseuds/disquisitemind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Think what you like, Dax.”  He smiled, genially, something he learned from Garak.  “But when they don’t call out my name, don’t expect me to be disappointed.”  </p><p>Jadzia smiled in a way that said she knew better, which was the only smile Julian ever received from her.  “Alright, Julian.  I believe you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swing Me Your Bones

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted this on tumblr, but I made some additions. Title was a song lyric taken from the song Technicolor Beat by Oh Wonder.

“You must be excited.” Jadzia beamed unhelpfully. “Did you call your parents yet?”

Julian sighed, a knot already forming in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t call his parents and he wouldn’t call his parents. He never would. His father was off god knows where, his mother happily being strung along. No he did not call his parents. The thought alone made him nauseated.

“I just did a little while ago. They were very excited, not as excited as you seem to be though.” He maneuvered his way around a very amorous bajoran couple as they continued their gait through the promenade. “I’m not going to win, I know it, you know it, and so does the Medical Board, by the way.” He said, more as a reminder to himself than a reprimand.

There was no use getting his hopes up. He wasn’t going to win. He didn’t deserve to win. Yes, he was proud of his work, but the other contestants had a lot to be proud of too, and they were a lot closer to death. Perhaps he did fantasize about winning, but not at the expense of the much older contestant, who might very well die before they get another nomination.

He wasn’t going to win.

Jazdia eyed him with amusement, “Maturity doesn’t suit you, Julian.” She too dodged another couple and decided to link arms with him instead. “You want to win, you can admit it.”

This was said playfully, but Julian wasn’t in a playful mood. The whole ordeal was terrible, nauseating; it made people loquacious about him, and that was never good. Julian liked saving people, he liked exceeding expectations. He didn’t like people talking about it.

One wrong move, one curious inquisitor, and his life was over.

He couldn’t win.

“Think what you like, Dax.” He smiled, genially, something he learned from Garak. “But when they don’t call out my name, don’t expect me to be disappointed.”

Jadzia smiled in a way that said she knew better, which was the only smile Julian ever received from her. “Alright, Julian. I believe you.”

He tutted and shook his head in mock annoyance, then patted the hand in the crook of his arm. “Although I would love to stay and chat, I’ve got a lunch date.”

She raised her eyebrows, impressed. He rolled his eyes and remedied, “Not a _date_ date.”

“Oh I see, not a _date_ date, just a _date._ ”

“Stop twisting my words. It’s with Garak.” He extrapolated, pulling away from her to depart to the replimat.

“Well have fun on your _date_ then.” She said with a wave, and boarded the turbolift.

“It’s not a date.”

“Have fun Julian.” She smiled, in that stupid way she always smiled. That same damn annoying smile.

“It’s not a date!” He called out as the turbolift descended out of view. Alone and feeling a little foolish he muttered to himself, “It’s not a date.”

“The time is now thirteen-hundred hours.” Julian’s comm badge chirped in alarm.

“Shit.” He muttered.

******************************

“My dear doctor, how nice of you to join me.” Garak smiled at him from his seat as Julian set down his tray. “I was afraid that I had the date wrong.”

“It’s not a date.”

“Excuse me?” Garak said.

Julian replayed back the exchange in his head and rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a little on edge lately.”

“Ah, the Carrington Award.” He smiled sympathetically, the smug bastard.

“I was hoping we wouldn’t talk about it.” Julian leaned forward and rested his elbows heavily on the table.

“Why ever not?” Garak’s eyes were bright with bemusement.

Julian shifted in his seat and sighed. “I don’t know why Jadzia even sent in my work anyway.”

“She told me herself that your work was, what did she call it? Ground breaking.” He settled, with a small smile. “You should be commemorated for your hard work.”

It wasn’t as hard as it was time-consuming, even so, “She didn’t ask me.”

“Perhaps, my Dear Doctor, she thought that you would be opposed to the submission?”

“All the more reason for her not to do it,” he replied, more annoyance creeping into his voice than he intended.

“You sound positively resentful. Trouble in paradise?”

Julian rolled his eyes. “I didn’t tell her it bothered me. If that is what you’re asking.”

“Not asking, just commenting.” He corrected, which was a grievous lie. Garak could be as mysterious as he liked, but he was a terrible gossip. Perhaps Garak should become friends with Dax instead. Then they could stick their noses where they don’t belong together.

“Do tell me, why does it bother you so much?”

“Because she didn’t have the right.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Because I didn’t do the work for some award, I did it to help people. I don’t want recognition, I just want…” He shook his head, stopping the thought.

“You want?” Garak pursued, a look in his eye betraying any pretense of complacency.

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter what I want does it?” Julian snapped, a trace of bitterness finding it’s way into his voice.

“More often than not, it doesn’t.” Garak agreed, sounding a tad more defeated than he had intended. Julian looked up in surprise and met his eyes, seeing that perhaps behind the mystery, behind the enigma that was Garak, there was vulnerability, something real, something touchable.

If only.

Garak cleared his throat and broke the contact, pulling away, his mouth set back into the same enigmatic smile and clear bright eyes. “Even so, besides all of your fuss, you are the youngest ever to be nominated. Quite an achievement, wouldn’t you say?”

Disappointed, but unsurprised, Julian uncrossed his arms and leaned back on the table. He drummed his fingers, intentionally brushing them against Garak’s. “It’s just some dumb award, that’s all.” He shrugged, and reached over to try some of Garak’s pudding.

“I’m surprised, Doctor.” Garak pushed the pudding closer to Julian’s reach. “I thought you loved mixing intellect with idiocy.”

The pudding was marvelous. “Only when it comes to you, My dear Mister Garak,” Julian said after a swallow.

Warmth flooded Garak’s features, and he quickly turned his attention back to his dessert. “Have you called your parents yet and told them of your nomination?” He asked, changing the subject partially.

Julian looked up and nodded, “Just this morning. Dax asked me that too, you know. In all actuality, I think Dax was more excited than they were. But you know her, she likes to be in the middle of things. By the way, has she come by to pick up that dress you made for her yet?”

Garak narrowed his eyes at him, and replied slowly, “Not yet.” Then after a pause, “Do tell me, Doctor, do you talk to your parents often?”

Julian snapped his mouth shut, and paused in consideration.

“Once a week.” He lied, then laughed, “Well, lately it’s been closer to once a month.” He waved a hand in the air, attempting embarrassment. “You know, speaking about the Carrington, I think that Doctor Wade should win, what do you think?”

“I think you would know best, Doctor,” Garak replied, not taking the bait, then added, “I don’t like to make a habit of repeating myself, but the youngest to ever be nominated...It is quite an honor.”

Julian stopped the rise in his throat, the tensing of his shoulders. His abdomen twisted in discomfort, but he kept the small carefree smile on his face and settled on a simple, “Thank you,” in light of diplomacy if nothing else.

“Who was that girl you used to go on and on about? The valedictorian?” Garak prodded further.

The pit in his stomach widened. “Elizabeth Lens.” He supplied, not knowing how else to reply.

Garak nodded knowingly. “She must have been tough competition for you, seeing as though you were, what did you call it?”

“Salutatorian.” He answered again, not liking the direction the conversation was taking.

“Ah yes. Better known as second best, wouldn’t you agree?”

Julian glared at him, then pulled his lips into a tight grimace. “Quite.”

“I wonder how it feels to have sexism still prominent in your field doctor.”

Julian’s eyes widened in indignation. “Starfleet is not sexist.”

“Really? Then why are you the youngest to be nominated, when you are second best? Isn’t she aboard the Lexicon? That is an explorer ship is it not? She must see many new and exciting lifeforms at her station. Not like you, who is...stationary. It’s very intriguing how you are so far ahead of your better.”

“Is it, now?” To Julian, Garak was anything but nonchalant, and suddenly this conversation stopped feeling anywhere near playful.

Garak took another spoonful of spice pudding and watched him with a critical eye. He reset his spoon on his tray and asked, his eyes unmoving, “Where did you say you’re parents lived again?”

“I didn’t.” He said carefully, but firm. Somehow, for some reason, Julian felt like he was being hunted. Garak’s eyes danced with danger. He leaned forward like a predator.

Julian’s heart raced, and his throat constricted. Suddenly he felt very dizzy, incapable of rationality. He looked at Garak, really looked.

Know thy enemy.

Julian knew almost nothing about Garak, other than he lived on Deep Space Nine as a tailor and he hated shakespeare. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The only way to lose was to be outwitted.

He wouldn’t win.

Not against Garak, whose life was molded because he was clever. Well, perhaps there was one more thing that he knew, but...he couldn’t.

But, he could. It was immoral, it was going too far for some feeling.

“A shame.” Garak replied, and the knot in Julian’s stomach tightened. It was not a feeling, it was intuition. It was instinct.

“Garak.” He said slowly, lowly, and in all ways unholy. “I have been so tense lately, with all of this Carrington business.” With a brazen hand Julian stroked the top of Garak’s left hand, shameless and determined. Garak looked stunned. Julian only needed to push a little further.

What was the saying? Keep your enemies closer?

Julian stood up, and walked over to Garaks side. With one hand in his pocket, he gripped the back of Garak’s chair and leaned down, so that his lips just lightly touched the ridge of the tailor’s ear. “Could we go somewhere more quiet? Perhaps your quarters?”

His friend seemed frozen in surprise, then seemed to collect himself. “My dear Doctor,” He stood up and offered his elbow to him, “you are the professional. Whatever you think is best.”

Julian settled his hand into the crook of Garak’s elbow and said lightly, “I knew you’d understand.”

*************************************

Afterward, long afterward, slightly longer than he had planned Julian received a searching look that was cold and detached...calculated. He turned away, not in the mood to justify himself, like he often felt like he did. Instead of asking questions, Garak just turned him back over and fucked him into his mattress.

That was the first ounce of compassion that Julian had felt in a very long time.

 *************************************

He swirled the drink in his hand, his eyes transfixed on the blue sparkling whirlpool. It’s color melded into the back of the bar, lights glimmering and a little too bright for the hour of the night.

He felt a little lightheaded, which could be due to the alcohol, or…

He didn’t even want to win; he didn’t want the award. If he won, he would have declined it’s acceptance. He didn’t want to win.

He didn’t win.

...or possibly his failure.

His failure.

Failure.  
                Failure.  
                                     Failure.  
                                                               Failure.  
                                                                                                Failure.

He should feel proud. To err was human. Failure was human. And isn’t that what he always wanted? To feel more human? To be more human?

He remembered Palis’ smile, small, but condescending. “I’m good for you. I make you more human.” She said sardonically, as if referring to some inside joke he wasn’t partial to.

Knowing her it probably was. “More human”. He thought distantly, _that_ she probably picked up from his father. _Your enhancements actually make you more human._ He said.

More human?  The whole concept was laughable.  

_“That’s your problem Jules.  You always think you’re better than everyone else, think your so much smarter, so much better.  That’s arrogance!”_

_“Well my apologies, Father.  I’ll try to be genetically altered only when it’s convenient for you.”  He was almost slapped for saying that, a part of him still thinks that he should have been.  It was a sore point, his arrogance.  Isn’t that what the previous augments were?_

Ambitious, Dangerous, Self-Superior, defeated by their Arrogance.  He didn’t want to fit that stereotype.  He didn’t want to prove anyone right, especially his father.  

What kept him awake at night wasn’t the nagging anger or indignation directed at his father’s ignorance.

He laid awake worrying that he was right.  

Did this failure make him feel more human?  He wasn't even sure what that meant.  

“Julian, are you even listening?” He snapped to attention, almost spilling the drink that rested in the cup of his palm.

“Am I listening?” He repeated, unnecessarily, closer to an instinctual response than any planned reply.

Jadzia rolled her eyes, and took the glass out of his hand carefully. “I never thought I’d see the day where I had to ask for your attention.”

He gave a short apologetic smile and shrugged. “I guess I’m not really feeling like myself today.”

His eyes flickered toward her for a moment and she pursed her lips in distaste, something close to sympathy. She placed a hand on his shoulder, a comforting gesture. “Julian, you just weren’t ready for the award. That’s nothing to feel ashamed about. It’s a great accomplishment on your part to even be nominated, just like you said.”

“I know.” He said, all of a sudden feeling very tired. “I know that.” He repeated. “It’s just-” He trailed off.

“You wanted to win.” Jadzia finished for him, which no, it wasn’t what he wanted at all. What he wanted was the tight knot in his stomach to go away.

“Yes, exactly.” He lied.

She chuckled lightly, “If eight lifetimes taught me anything, it’s that winning isn’t everything, no matter what you,” she paused and leaned forward, “or your parents think.”

“Ha, ha, very funny.” He said, humorlessly. He shook his head. “I think I’ve had enough for tonight.”

He braced his hands against the bar to stand up, but Jadzia placed a hand on top of his, stopping him. “Julian, I’m proud of you.” She said simply, squeezing his hand for good measure, and in that moment, he felt a pause, a suspension. Some sort of helplessness that wound its hand around his bicep, stopping him from movement, from thought. It pressed close to him and encircled his waist like an old friend.

_Palis pushed her forehead into the side of his jaw. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I really admire you, what you’re doing.”_

_He didn’t reply, just stood there, motionless as she moved forward and laid her head in the crook of his neck. “I’m still mad at you.” He opened his mouth in reply, but she just shook her head.  “Don’t apologize. That’s not really what I want to hear, I’m not even sure what I want to say.”_

_She paused for a moment, the air tense with silence. Slowly she pulled away and looked at him for a moment. She memorized his features in the same way she did only a two days earlier._

_Two days, and so much had changed, changed between them. “All this time, you’ve been saying what you were supposed to say, and now, I’m going to say what I’m supposed to say, what I should’ve said. What you need to hear.”_

_Palis’ eyes were firm, and for the first time Julian felt as though he was alive, as if he were present. For the first time, he felt the floor grounding his feet to the earth, the oxygen tying him to the breeze, this moment tying him to her._

_She smiled._

“C’mon, let’s get you home.” Jadzia swung his arm around her shoulder, and tried to vacate him from the bar. “A little too much is right.” She said a little breathlessly, Julian slightly heavier than she was expecting.

“Jadzia?” Julian mumbled, losing his footing. Jadzia readjusted him to a more comfortable position.

“Yes?”

He walked with her for a bit in silence, feeling electric, feeling alive, like someone set fire to his heart. _Palis rested her palm on his chest and curled her hand into his shirt. And somehow, this felt important. The cool evening breeze against his face, the cricket’s pleasant chirping, the summer chill seeping into her half cracked window. This was the center of the universe, this wildness, this instinct that this was right._

“I need to see Garak.”

“Right now? He’s probably sleeping, maybe tomorrow.”

“I can’t do it tomorrow, it needs to be now.”

“You’re drunk, Julian.”

“I’m here! Please, Dax.” He pleaded, ceasing the pretense, stuttering his own heart into movement.

She reconsidered. Something in his eyes, or his voice perhaps, that betrayed him. The breathlessness, the energy, the feeling that for the first time he was serious. That everything he did or said was an elaborate game, but not this.

But not this.

“Okay.” She agreed. “To Mister Garak it is.” He looked relieved, and she shook her head in good humor. “Anything particular you want to say to him?” She asked, more out of general curiosity than anything else.

_He smiled._


End file.
